Heated Blood
by ImaniJoain
Summary: Kagome cannot help but try to fix anything she finds broken, even if it is not in her best interests to do so. When she comes across Sesshomaru in dire need of assistance, she cannot deny herself. She only hopes that he won't kill her for it.
1. Chapter 1: Chumbawamba

_It's not that I'm drunk_, Kagome told herself as she stumbled again, this time regaining her balance with the help of a young tree. _It's more that I'm...mellow._ A sigh, that morphed into a quiet giggle escaped her. _Mellow, and really, really clumsy. _It was only the second time she had ever drank sake – the first being in her own time at a cousin's wedding. She was pretty sure that the stuff they made in the feudal era must be stronger. At least, the bottle that Miroku had earned with his last 'exorcism' seemed unusually strong.

They were celebrating. It had been a year since Naraku's defeat, almost a year since Miroku and Sango had been married. No one had realized until they were setting up camp. Miroku was building a fire, Sango was helping Shippo fetch water, and Inuyasha was hunting. Kagome had pulled all of her bathing supplies out of her bag, and was looking for spices when her old school calendar book fell open on the ground. She pointed out the date to Miroku, and then to Sango and Shippo when they returned, and the others insisted that they celebrate. Sango and Kagome bathed quickly, and returned to camp to find rabbit meat had been added to the stew and Inuyasha had disappeared. Kagome felt terrible that she had been so thoughtless. It was also the anniversary of Kikyou's final death. The others tried to make her feel better. Miroku insisted that Inuyasha wasn't mad, he just needed some time to himself.

The adults had a drink, then another. They ate dinner and told stories. After a few hours, Kagome was able to forget about Inuyasha's pain and her guilt. She was able to stop reminding herself that he had to be responsible for his own happiness. Shippo fell asleep, but the sake in their cups always seemed full and Miroku told jokes that would have made Kagome blush if her face wasn't already flushed from the alcohol. Sango would have hit him, if she hadn't been married to him and already learned that there was no correcting his behavior. The couple shared a long look, and then Sango, her voice breathless and low, asked Kagome to check at the bathing site for a missing towel. It was a plea for alone time, Kagome knew. Familiar with the request, she nodded, as though she didn't know exactly what was going to happen at camp while she was gone. She grabbed her bathing supplies as she left, knowing she might need to occupy herself for a while. A long while, if Sango's husky laughter was any indication.

At least the water will be relaxing, she thought. Kagome straightened and looked around. She was sure she should have come to the stream already. She rolled her eyes in the semi-darkness of a full moon. The haze of sake allowed her to laugh at her own complete lack of direction rather than becoming frustrated. _Twenty more steps_, she decided, _then I'll turn around and follow my own trail back._ She was pretty good at that, at least. Although it helped that she generally made a messy track of broken branches and deep scuffs in the dirt where ever she walked. Clumsiness had it's virtues.

She took another ten steps, and a low warning pulse of youki beat against her. Kagome pulled herself up sharply, her senses on alert. She stepped forward slowly, and the pulse came again, harder. It was clearly intended to keep others away, but there was something about it that called the miko forward. She stretched her senses carefully, and she thought perhaps it was the sake, but her reiki flowed easily and gently, looking for the source of the warning.

A youkai. A massively powerful youkai. And it was in incredible pain.

Kagome gasped at the intensity of what she sensed. How the creature had not died or gone insane, she couldn't imagine. Warning or no, the miko from the future could not allow anyone to suffer if she might be able to help. She pushed forward through a thicket, following the pulse of youki. A branch snapped at her palm, cutting her, and the pain distracted her from the moment that she reached a small clearing. Rather than shock, she was confused by the sight before her. A powerful youkai, indeed. A daiyoukai, his back against a tree and his legs arranged in a position of meditation before him. His eyes were slitted, so narrow they were almost closed save for a paper-thin opening of red that burned in an unfocused gaze. The combination of alcohol and sudden pain clouded her thoughts so that all she could manage to say was, "Sesshomaru?"


	2. Chapter 2: Neil Diamond

He felt the approach of another, a human, and her scent reached him even in the still air of the forest. He was deep within his meditation, a state of absolute immobility that had taken him nearly two days to achieve. His mind had been locked in a hard fought place of quiet frustration – tranquility had proved unattainable even to him. There, deep inside himself and protected by a barrier of his youki, he was snapped into awareness by the subtle fragrance of carnations and dogwood. The scent, he was familiar with it and it gave rise to a tangle of emotions he had long labeled as irritated respect, broke the tenuous peace he had found and brought the agony of his body to his attention.

He still could not move, his muscles purposefully frozen to prevent himself from acting on the burn in his veins and doing something he would regret. He managed to lift his eyelids a fraction, but they would go no further. Still, it was enough to see the Shikon priestess as she stumbled out of the bushes. Her shoes were scuffed and dusty, but the rest of her was clean. He had come to expect that. She seemed to only have two states of being: freshly washed and covered in gore from Inuyasha's latest kill. She vastly preferred clean, and was willing to work hard to get that way – unlike most humans. That did not stop the urge to strangle her from rising as she spoke, "Sesshomaru?"

Her voice was quiet, not the shrill scream she used for the hanyou, or the soft, smiling words she spoke to her human companions or the kit. Since they had become allies – only a short time ago, it seemed to him – she had used such a tone with him. Low, strong, and respectful. He had approved of it, as he had approved of her more modest clothing. The indecent skirt she had worn before had disappeared since Naraku's defeat to be replaced with garments that, while not appropriate compared to what other females wore, were still a vast improvement. Her thighs were at least covered, although her bare calves under a longer skirt or the curve of her bottom in strangely tight pants still drew lecherous stares, he had noticed and appreciated her attempt at modesty.

Such clothing was not in evidence as she stepped closer, ignoring the barrier of youki he had created to repel other creatures as if it did not exist. Soft pants, if they could be called that, stopped only a few inches past the top of her legs. A thin blue shirt, paler than her eyes, with narrow straps hugged her breasts and did not quite meet her waistband, exposing a strip of pale skin when she moved. A robe of darker blue hung open from her shoulders, the thin, attached obi hung uselessly to drag on the ground. "Sesshomaru?" she called softly again.

Her concern only added to the way the sight of her angered him. He had no control over his body, but his mind was calling her every kind of fool for ignoring the warning of his barrier. He was not sure what it was about her that allowed her to pass, but he would find out once he had regained control of himself and it would not happen again. Another step closer and sweet flowers and ripe berries whispered on the air between them. His blood boiled, raging against the constraints he had placed on it.

Every twenty-five years his blood felt the call. Every quarter-century since he had come into adulthood he spent one moon cycle fighting against his instincts, fighting the blood that flamed under his skin and tried to overtake his good judgment. Only three times had he intentionally given in. Always in situations carefully selected and controlled by him. The first had been instructional and therapeutic. The second diverting and cathartic, but then she had attempted to become impregnated, violating their agreement – as if her devious actions would not be noticed. He was forced to burn his seed from her with acid, and it left him disgusted with his own lack of control. The third, several centuries later, had been poorly chosen. The bitch had attempted to mark him. She did not survive.

After that, he had determined that he would spend such unfortunate times far from any other living thing. It had grown increasingly difficult over the last century to ignore his instincts. During his last heat, he found that – although he was loathe to lower himself to try – he could not even ease his own pain. He had lost his reason to his beast for the last few days and had nearly assaulted a young youkai female. After such an experience, he had prepared himself for the next heat. He trained his body and mind to enter a deep state of meditation – a fashion of hibernation that would keep his desires impotent and without the ability to take action. A barrier of his energy would protect his body from assault, and he carefully chose a location that was considered holy by most demons. It was anathema to their kind and unlikely to be stumbled upon.

Rin had been left with supplies, Ah-Un, and his retainer They were close enough to Edo that she could seek help from the humans there if necessary. He would never admit, even to himself, that he trusted his half-brother to protect his ward, but he had intentionally set her camp within Inuyasha's forest.

All of that planning and preparation. A day of flying from his pack to this spot in the forest. Two days of meditating to reach a state where he could control his instincts. So much effort – wasted. He could already sense his beast beginning to work on the barriers placed around it. It would take time, perhaps several hours, before his blood had free reign, but then he doubted he would be able to cage it again. He almost hoped he would be free before the woman was frightened away. Perhaps he could kill her for her stupidity before he found a youkai female. If he committed rape, he would lay the blame at the miko's feet. _Foolish girl._

"Are you injured?" She stepped closer, and he could smell the sake on her breath. The hot taste of it washed down his nose and throat, followed by her natural sweet scent and he hated her. Hated that his body, which had been eager for the heat since before he had begun his meditation, surged to life at the scent and sound of her. Unfortunately, one female seemed to be as good as another, as far as his blood was concerned. Human or not, the girl was present. Even if she had been swaddled in clothing and crying with fear, it would not have mattered. He realized grimly that he had overestimated himself. She was female and had a pulse. That would be enough.

"Can you hear me, Sesshomaru?" She sank down on her knees before him, her legs inches from his. The concern on her face and in her scent was unavoidable. Something unfamiliar – _guilt_, he wondered, and then pushed that thought aside – plagued him. He would devour her if she stayed nearby, and he was aware that she did not deserve that. She was foolish, naive and a little drunk. She was also ridiculously brave, loyal, and surprisingly intelligent. She did not deserve rape, and most likely death, at his hands. He struggled to work up a growl to frighten her away, but his voice would not obey him.

"I'm-" she swallowed hard and he watched her throat work, the smell of anxiety, but not fear, leeching into her scent. "I'm just going to look for your wounds. Okay?" She watched him intently, and when he was not able to respond worry overcame her scent and she reached for his hands. She tried to remove his clawed fingers from his thighs, but his stiff muscles would not allow it. She muttered to herself, or perhaps him, he could not be certain, as she instead stroked along each arm, pushing up his sleeves as she went. "No blood, that must be good...unless it's not...internal injury..." She reached his shoulders with cool fingers and then withdrew. Next she carefully slipped her small hands behind his neck, leaning forward over his lap to feel his spine from the top of his armor, over the collar of his kimono, ghosting across the skin of his neck and into his hair. Her dull nails had a light touch on his scalp and he could not help but inhale her scent. The sensations combined to have his beast tugging at its restraints and licking its lips in anticipation. Her fingertips found his ears and stroked down the outer edges, tracing his markings. Even his rational mind forgot for a moment that she was an inferior human who should fear him and instead wondered how the sensation could be made more enjoyable. _Perhaps if she used her tongue._

Her whispered instructions to herself brought him out of his lapse in judgment. Her hands traced his collar bones and sternum until she met his bone armor. "Not moving...fracture...no...would have to be more serious...compound break..." She sat back on her heels and her hands moved to his feet. He did not understand some of her words, but it was clear she felt she would find a physical injury that could be healed. For both their sakes, he hoped she would not be so close – or anywhere within scenting distance – when his malady made itself known. Her eyes darted up to his again. "I'm sorry Sesshomaru, but I need to take off your boots. Is that okay?" He could not refuse her permission, and he doubted if she would have listened in any case. _Stubborn_ _woman_.

She removed his boots and socks, then had the audacity to loosen the ties at the ankles of his pants. Her palms slid up his calves, leaving a stimulating chill in their wake, and he became aware of something else in her scent. A tart smell of embarrassment and something thicker. He could not place it immediately, and was aware that he had never been near her when she smelled that way before. It wrapped around his tongue, bringing his taste buds to attention before sinking down into his belly where it mixed with the heat that already plagued him. Her palms reached as high as his bent knees before she withdrew and studied him with concern. Her sake flush had spread from her cheeks to her slender neck, and his beast whispered to him that he could make it extend even further.

"Punctured lung? Bruised liver...Inuyasha nearly died..." He felt a growl building without any encouragement from him at his half-brother's name on her lips. His logical mind wanted to groan in frustration. If his beast could not stand the thought of her speaking of another male, Sesshomaru doubted it would let her leave before it had taken her for its own. "He is so much stronger though...would Sesshomaru even notice injuries that lay Inuyasha out for a day?" He did not have time to consider how the comparison between himself and his brother swelled his ego. Her question ended with a sudden movement to sit at his side. She nearly fell over, in her tipsy state misjudging the distance. She crashed into him and the press of her curves against his arm sent his blood screaming. From the corner of his eye he watched her sway and press one hand to her head. "Never again, Kagome," she whispered. Her face was close enough to his that her breath stroked across his jaw. _Sake and sweet flowers._

It took a few moments for her to regain her composure, and then her hands were on his armor. She hesitated briefly before ducking her head to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry a human has to touch you, Sesshomaru, I know you don't like it. But I will figure out what is wrong and help you." Her determination was clear, and if he had been capable he might have closed his eyes in frustration. He did not want to hurt the miko, but the longer she stayed, the more likely it was he would lose all control. It was clear to him that his beast had scented a female it was interested in, and interest came closer to obsession with each touch of her hands and inhale of her scent. All because she could not bear to leave him if he was hurt. _Perplexing, stubborn woman._


	3. Chapter 3: Tom T Hall

Kagome took a deep breath, trying to steady her hands. She blew out through her mouth, sending her bangs puffing into the air and hoping it would clear the warm fuzz that clouded her vision and her thinking. If I hadn't been drinking, I might have already figured this out. If I hadn't been drinking, I might not have been brave enough to look for an injury. That thought sent a wave of warmth sloshing across her skin. It sank into her and settled low in her belly. Smooth skin over steely muscles. Soft fur. Silky hair. Kagome tried to clear her head and focus on the important issue – something was very wrong with Sesshomaru. However, her mind seemed to wander off at the metal repetition of his name.

Sesshomaru.

There was no denying that he was gorgeous. Gorgeous and well-built and easily capable of inducing dreamy eyes in silly human girls whose hormones were raging. Or he would have been, if he wasn't also impossibly arrogant, cold, and downright mean sometimes. Of course, he had not been truly mean to anyone in their group since the defeat of Naraku. Even his attitude toward Inuyasha was different. Still cutting and superior, but he seemed to bait the younger demon more out of boredom than hatred. And frankly, Kagome admitted to herself, the superiority is well-deserved. His fighting skills were excellent. His looks were without compare. And his body... That made her blush even harder and she took another deep breath.

Sesshomaru was hurt. Obviously. Or he would have moved, or spoken, at least grunted a condescending 'Hn' and ignored her. He had done none of those things. He was clearly aware of his surroundings; his slitted red eyes followed her movements even if he gave no other indication of life. She paused for a moment and felt for his pulse in his neck. Her eyes widened after several seconds without a beat, and then she felt it. And again, after several long seconds. She raised her wrist and concentrated on the dim face of her watch. "One...two...three...four...five..." The minute was up. Horrified, she met his gaze again. "Holy shit," she whispered, "I hope that is normal for you, or this is really bad." He showed no sign of hearing her, so she sat back on her heels again.

"There must be something wrong. Poison or internal injury. If you'd been in a fight, there should be blood – not that you would ever get dirty. I mean – you're just that good, right?" His eyes met hers but he made no sound. "Okay, I have to remove your armor, and then," she swallowed, her blush growing hotter. She mustered her determination, "I may have to remove your clothes to figure out what's wrong." She might have imagined it, but she swore his eyes darkened just a bit. Kagome ignored the little, hot, sex-deprived part of her nineteen year-old body that was practically drooling over the idea of a bare-chested daiyoukai. She did her best to pretend that she didn't have a knot of heat tightening low in her belly or that her pajama shorts weren't growing damp along the seam.

Get it together, she thought furiously, his skin is probably crawling with disgust at the thought of your human filth touching him. The reminder of Sesshomaru's long-standing hatred of humans, and avoidance of physical contact – at least, any that didn't involve breaking his brother's jaw – did nothing to cool her. Kagome made quick work of the obi, folding it on the pile of fur next to his hip. She placed his swords gently on top. She brought her hands to his shoulder again and traced the edge of his armor until she found the fastening. Her fingers felt stupid; perhaps it was the strange buckles and knots, or perhaps it was the sake. Perhaps it was her imagination running rampant with the knowledge that she was about to get enough visual material to fuel her fantasies for years.

She might never have a boyfriend. It was difficult when everyone in the future thought she had shingles and a severe case of Crohn's disease. Almost everyone in the past thought she was either a whore, although she had done her best to change her image with more conservative clothes, or a holy miko beyond their reach. Miroku was married – and ew. Inuyasha was her best friend and was still mourning for her dead incarnation. Double ew. He had also walked in on her bathing shortly after Kikyou's death. Rather than embarrassment or interest, he had looked...sad. That had killed any lingering dreams of a happy ever after with Inuyasha. She couldn't imagine ever sleeping with someone who thought of a corpse when he saw her body. Sesshomaru might not like her touch, but he needed it. Her sake-fuzzed brain reasoned that there was no problem with enjoying her task, as long as she healed him in the process.

Finally, the knots seemed to fall apart and his spiked pauldron slid off. She barely caught it before it crashed into his lap. His bone armor protected his chest, stomach, and groin, but the spike could have stabbed through his leg. Her breath left her in a rush as the weight pulled on her arms until her hands slapped against his legs. "How the hell do you wear this around?" she complained under her breath. She heaved it away, trying and failing to ignore the heat of his thighs against the backs of her hands.

She slid her hand behind his back, searching for the ties of his chest piece. She finally found them under his arms, but since he would or could not cooperate, she found it difficult to get her fingers around the ties. With a hot blush she finally climbed into his lap so that she could get a good angle. "I hope that this isn't a poison, Sesshomaru," she rambled. It did nothing to take her mind off of the intense heat of his body or the hard muscle of his leg where it pressed against her bottom. "I, ah, I don't have my first aid kit, so hopefully it is something simple. I mean, not that I would know for certain if it..." Her mouth kept moving, independent of her repeated commands to herself to shut up.

The knots on one side came loose, and she tried not to focus on the warmth of his chest under the armor or the ridges of muscle that banded his ribs. She had no idea what she was saying, but a brief glance at his face confirmed that his eyes were still narrowed on her and had darkened even further. She swallowed hard and focused on her task. Bent over him, she was enveloped in his scent. Earthy musk, like a forest after a rain and the sharp taste of ozone. Lightning. She wondered if that was from him, or his sword. His temperature was high, much higher than would be safe for a human, but she wasn't sure what was normal for a youkai. Inuyasha and Shippo always seemed warm to her, so perhaps a daiyoukai of his power would be even more so. It was impossible to know, but that did not stop her from unconsciously leaning closer to him, as if trying to absorb his heat. She caught herself swaying at the same moment that the last knot was undone and jerked backward. She fell on her bottom, hard enough to hurt. The heavy weight of his armor knocked the breath out of her for a moment, so that all she could do was stare at what she uncovered.

"Holy hell," she finally whispered.


	4. Chapter 4: Joe Nichols

She was still talking. Sesshomaru wasn't sure how she had the breath for it. Removing his armor appeared to be difficult. The weight was too much for a human – especially one as small as the miko – but still she kept talking. Unintelligible words about possible injuries she felt he could have sustained and conjectures on the comparative anatomy of humans and youkai. He would have scoffed at the mere thought of attempting comparison between one such as himself and a human, but her proximity and his rising need drew his interest to the subject matter.

He tuned out most of her babble and focused his eyes, the only part of himself he had any control over, on her lips. They were pink. Dark pink like the flowers she smelled of. _Ripe enough to eat,_ his need whispered. She pulled his spiked shoulder armor off and he felt a moment of concern that she would impale herself. The miko caught it at the last moment, but the weight pressed her hands against his thighs and his attention was drawn there. Even through his clothing, she felt sinfully cool against his overheated skin. He was aware that humans did not produce as much heat as demons. They were in danger of exposure from even a few hours of freezing temperatures. He had always thought of it as a weakness; but as his blood surged in a fiery maelstrom her cool touch felt both soothing and arousing.

The leather laces that held his armor together used a particular knot that the miko did not seem familiar with. She uttered several strange curses as she tried to wedge her fingers between his arm and his ribs to untie them. No matter how she turned, she could not both see her hands and get her fingers in place. If she had abandoned hope quickly, he might have been able to forget the sweet relief of her cool hands or the lush press of her body. The miko was nothing if not determined. Her cheeks flushed red and she settled herself in his lap, her legs splayed on either side of his hips and her head bent to sort out the knots.

Blood rushed from his head straight to his groin. The bone plates of his armor and mere inches of space separated him from her core. He recognized the thick scent of her arousal. It mixed with the slightly salty, sweet moisture that clung to her open legs. _She desires This One._ It was not his beast that whispered the thought, although that instinctual part of himself agreed with all the alacrity of an animal left in the desert for days and then offered the sight of a life-giving spring. His logical mind came to that conclusion, and he was not displeased. That brought confusion which only increased with the trails of need left by her gentle fingers on his ribs.

First one side of his armor, then the other was worked free under her ministrations. The feel of her, the scent of her arousal and maidenly embarrassment, even the sound of her voice which had taken on a husky tone incited his heat to flare higher and his mind to drift. Without any encouragement from his baser self, he wondered what other differences existed between youkai and humans – beyond strength and temperature. Their anatomy was similar enough to produce half-breeds, but he wondered if the same touches, the same caresses with his hands and mouth that he had used to please demon females would be equally gratifying to the miko. Perhaps more so. She would, no doubt, not enjoy the bites and nips to display dominance – as a human the communication in such things would be lost on her and the pain would be unpleasant. Humans kissed. With open mouths and tongues. It was rarely done among inu or youkai in general. Fangs were sharp and such displays of trust and intimacy were often reserved for mates or long faithful lovers. He had nothing to fear from her teeth, nor would she place undue importance on the act – not knowing what it portended among his kind. Sesshomaru knew he would enjoy her taste.

He had only a moment to be appalled at the turn of his thoughts before the last tie came undone. Her success took the miko by surprise and the weight of his chest piece collapsed against her. It pushed her over, and she crashed onto her back, awkwardly bowed over his lower legs. She was staring at him, mumbling something, but the words meant nothing to him as he took in her position. She shoved the armor away and sat up on one elbow, eyes wide. Her bottom remained on the ground between his knees, the deliciously moist center of her only inches away. One bare, slender leg was looped around him, between his arm and thigh. The other lay over his opposite arm, the smooth flesh rubbing across the back of his hand. He would wonder later at her lack of hair, but the errant question was lost amid the sight of her. The miko's robe was cast wide open, her back forced into an uncomfortable arch that thrust the pebbled tips of her breasts out towards him in an invitation that he knew she had not intended. It enticed him regardless. The unblemished column of her neck was stretched to keep her head off the ground. Strands of hair had fallen from her high tail and traced the skin like beacons for his mouth.

"No wonder you're in pain," she whispered. In another time and place, if he were the type to allow his reactions to be displayed for others, he would have laughed at her stare. The white of her eyes showed all around the blue. Her mouth hung slightly open, her tongue darted out to wet her lips and he groaned. He tried to, anyhow. The constraints of his self-imposed hibernation hid that disgraceful response. Without the ability to move his neck, he could not look down to see what had her attention, but he did not need to. His member was harder, hotter, _greedier_ than he could ever remember, and under her gaze another surge of blood made it twitch. She made a sound somewhere between a breathy sigh and a shocked gasp.

Sesshomaru was humiliated. This time, this state of his body, was the most undignified point in his life and it was being viewed by a human female with no concept of what instincts and honor had brought him too. Worse yet, she inspired his blood, had become the focus of his urges. He would not relish her rape if such a thing were to occur when his beast finally broke free. However, there would be some measure of satisfaction in her eventual death at his hands – or, just as likely, his body. He would mourn the loss of such a powerful being. A creature of honor and one with a personal code. Still, it would be a balm to his pride to ensure that no one else would ever know how far he had fallen.

If he had the ability, he would have summoned his whip and killed her where she lay. He would have broken her neck for daring to view him as she did. For the crime of stirring his lust, he would have cut her heart from her chest. Instead he sat there. Ironically, impotent to kill as he desired, and potently desirous, to his shame.

Her scent. His breathing had slowed during his meditation, but even the handful of inhalations he had taken since she had arrived were too many. _Sweet carnations._ He could almost taste their pink-purple color. He felt as though he lay in a field of the flowers, their smell coating his nose in a way he tried to tell himself was cloying, but had him breathing deeper to take in more. _Dogwood._ The slender, hard branches of the shrub made excellent weapons and the fruit it bore was both tart and sweet. Like this female, a dichotomy. Her blush matched the color of the berries. Sesshomaru felt certain her skin would have its flavor. He had always found her scent pleasant, but with his blood surging and his beast slavering for her he found the miko overwhelmingly delicious.

She sat up fully, leaving her robe on the ground behind her; the sway and light bounce of her breasts drew his eyes from her lips and he could feel his mouth watering. "I could..." She cleared her throat unnecessarily and her eyes met his for the barest moment before she looked down. Her blush intensified and her gaze darted from his groin to his hands, still firmly on his own thighs, to his face and back again before coming to a stop. The blue was intense. For all the cool refreshment of her skin her gaze seemed to burn. As she spoke, the lush fragrance of hibiscus grew thick on the air between them. "I could help," she whispered.


	5. Chapter 5: Screamin' Jay Hawkins

"I could help." Kagome couldn't believe she had offered, but the thoughts in her head seemed to fall out of her mouth without any direction. She wanted to blame it on the sake that was still fogging her brain, and probably messing with her speech filter, but she knew that wasn't the only reason. Not even the most important reason.

She was alone. Not in a die-with-a-dozen-cats-and-they-eat-your-face-after-you're-dead kind of way, but in a way that made her long for intimate touch. It was shallow, and stupid, but she wanted someone to love her, not because she did not feel loved, but in a physical way. Because she wanted to share something hot and personal and hers alone with another person. She wanted that moment where she would know she was the most important thing in the world for someone else. It would be brief. With Sesshomaru, most likely brief and ending in death or at least maiming, but it would be real. He didn't _love_ her – that idea was downright certifiable – but with him she could be _that_ person. The _only_ person. Even if it was for a split second.

She didn't belong in the future anymore. That was why she had continued coming to the feudal era when the well had not closed after the jewel was completed. She knew that she did not belong there, but as she helped Kaede in the village or occasionally traveled with her friends she wasn't sure she belonged in the past either. Everyone else was rooted - was alive and present in their time. She didn't feel like she had that. She wanted to feel alive. She wanted to be present. At least for one moment, she wanted to know where she belonged, with absolute certainty.

If she needed philosophical and metaphysical affirmation, she might as well make certain it was also mind-blowing and universally unique. Touching Sesshomaru's naked body was as unique as it could get – especially since she doubted he let anyone live to tell about it. And it was assured to be mind-blowing. One of her future friends had told her if she was going to take a risk, particularly on a guy, she should 'go big or go home'. Kagome was pretty sure she meant asking out a stranger in a bar, not helping the Killing Perfection orgasm. There was no bigger risk than stripping the famously human-hating daiyoukai and helping ease his _tension_. There was certainly no one bigger. Period. Of that Kagome was sure.

The tent in his pants was almost frightening. Or it would have been if Kagome hadn't had just enough to drink to ease her fears, but still keep her mind focused on limits. She was a virgin, and even if she had felt comfortable ending that state with a one-night stand - _what a night it would be_ - she had taken enough math to understand mass and acceleration. Although she couldn't have done the equation in her soused state, she still knew what was in his pants was not intended for beginners. She had no intentions of having sex with Sesshomaru.

_Sesshomaru. Sex._

That was enough to short-circuit her brain for a few seconds. No. She wasn't going to have sex with him, she was just going to help him out. Ease his pain. _He shouldn't be mad, honestly, I'm being totally Florence Nightingale self-less here,_ she tried to justify to herself. It didn't work. She brushed her hands against her tank top and reached trembling fingers towards his kimono. She knew how hand-jobs worked. She was nineteen, for crying out loud. She listened to her friends, had seen movies, read romance novels. She understood erections. She had been waking up in a privacy-less camp with two teenage, or teenage equivalent, men for the better part of four years. She had even had the misfortune to be knocked into Hojo at school once. He had apparently found her gym uniform quite appealing. She could help Sesshomaru, and once he had some blood free for other parts of his body, hopefully he wouldn't be paralyzed anymore. Hopefully it took long enough to kick in that she could make it back to camp before he could kill her. That thought, of Sesshomaru chasing her through the forest, and catching her, sent another arrow of heat straight to her core. He used to really hate her, and he hadn't killed her then. He seemed to, if not like her, at least not want to murder her anymore. She prayed that worked in her favor.

_Quit stalling_, she ordered herself. _If you are going to do this, do it, otherwise walk away. _

She found the knot of his datejime belt and quickly untied it and placed it with his obi. Kagome then traced the edge of his kimono lightly before slipping her fingers underneath. There she paused, her conscience heavy with the realization of what she was about to do. Her fingers absorbed the delicious heat of his skin. Their eyes met, and she blurted, "I hope you're okay with this. I mean- I hope that this is the right thing to help you. I don't want you to be hurt, Sesshomaru. I don't want to think that you are stuck like this, hurt or paralyzed or whatever. Not if I could help." She made a strange, high-pitched sound that she was sure hurt his ears but he did not flinch and she couldn't seem to stop herself from talking once she had started. "Not that I won't enjoy it. I mean, I'm curious – who wouldn't be curious, and you are, well, you're perfect. You know that. Of course you know that. But this isn't about what I think about you. I just want- I just-" She swallowed, hard, on the flood of words that were damming up behind her tongue. "I hope you don't feel...violated...but I think this will help you."

Saying it made it real, and suddenly Kagome knew, with absolute conviction, that she was doing the right thing. It was strange that this act would fall into the same category as repairing the Shikon, freeing Inuyasha, or trusting Sango and Miroku after they had tried to kill her. But she _knew_ that this act, this brief time with Sesshomaru was _right_. That realization eased her fears, allowed her to fall back into the sweet haze of alcohol and potent male, and she slid both hands under his clothing. Flattening her palms on his silk-covered chest, she pushed back the edges of his kimono. His fur followed it to rest on the ground behind him. His sleeves caught at his forearms, unable to slide further with his hands pressed against his legs. Then she repeated the process with his white shirt. The thin, soft cloth of his undershirt followed and Kagome took a moment to admire his chest.

There was a lot to admire. Pale skin was sculpted into musculature that Michelangelo's David would have been jealous of. Kagome wished, absurdly, that she had seen Sesshomaru shirtless before she had taken her biology class. Anatomy would have been a breeze with that kind of study guide. Trapezius that sloped from neck to shoulders, emphasized by smooth collarbones that begged to be traced with her tongue. She actually swayed forward before she caught herself. _This is for him, not your hormones,_ she told herself sternly. Deltoids, pectoralis major, biceps, obliques – they all made it easy to forget that tiny fact. That flimsy excuse that seemed real and true and _right_. Her palms remained on his chest and Kagome became hyper-aware of the texture of his nipples pressed against her skin.

She forced her hands to drift down, tripping across the ridges of his abdomen. Her left index finger fell into the shallow hollow of his navel and she traced the edges before finding the nearly invisible trail of silver hair that disappeared into his pants. The ties were difficult, but once she found a loose end they unraveled quickly. She sucked in a breath as she pulled down the waistband to gape across his lap. What she found sent a little sigh of frustration through her lips. She had forgotten about fundoshi – the long length of cloth that men in the feudal era used as underwear. To loosen it, she would have to find the end, and she was sure she knew where that would be.

With nervous, excited fingers, she followed the skin along the top of the garment around his sides. The piece was styled not unlike a thick thong, twisted and tucked together before wrapping between his legs and up again to protect what had to be a painful erection. She had to lean close to him, bringing her face within inches of his skin to work her hands under the cloth in the back. Her questing fingers slid across smooth, hard glutes. _I always thought being able to bounce a quarter off of a tight ass was just talk, but_... Kagome had to bite her cheek to stop herself from grabbing a handful of flesh and squeezing. Her face felt hot and her breath heated the air between them so that she was breathing in warm, moist air that smelled like Sesshomaru and probably didn't have as much oxygen as she needed right then. Kagome had the feeling that if she saw or touched much more of him she would need a tank of the pure stuff to keep from hyperventilating.

Finally, she found the end of the fundoshi, and with a sharp tug the cloth went lax and pooled around his hips. She leaned back, letting one hand rest on his chest to keep herself steady while the other reached, trembling, for the last barrier between them. "What the-" She pulled back her hand, looking up at him sharply. He was hot, unbelievably so, even through the cloth. It hadn't burned her, but it was a near thing. Kagome actually wondered if she would be able to handle him. _Get it together, _she ordered herself sternly_. Imagine how it must feel for him, and the commercials always say an erection shouldn't last more than four hours. _

Modern science bolstered her courage, and she gripped him firmly through the material. He was hot, so hot, but also harder and larger around than she had imagined. Her eyes met his for a moment. The red splinters of his gaze, framed by white lashes that she could see from close up were long enough to inspire jealously in most women, had darkened again. Still, he made no sound, nor moved. She did see his focus flick down to his lap, then up to her face again.

"I'll do my best, Sesshomaru. I've never...I mean...I know in theory how to..." She cleared her throat. "I will help you, and hopefully this will fix whatever else is wrong with you." Her voice fell to a whisper as she dragged the cloth away. It caught for a moment on the swollen tip of him, then slid away to reveal him fully. She had to lick her lips before she could finish, so quietly she wasn't sure she had actually spoken, "Just don't kill me if I enjoy this more than you."


	6. Chapter 6: The Stooges

The woman was babbling nervously about violating him, and if Sesshomaru hadn't been ready to leap out of his own skin, he might have been tempted to snort at her stupidity. Her fingers traced his clothing; cool digits leaving icy wakes along his heated skin as she disrobed him. _Foolish, foolish miko._ It was as it had always been. She was truly selfless. He would not have said such a thing could be true about any creature before he had met her. Even afterward, in the years he had known her, encountered her strange behavior again and again, he was not sure he had believed it. And yet, she sat in his lap, assuring him she would ease his pain. She worried for _him_. She smelled of guilt and spoke of violation as if she could not possibly see the only threat present was to her.

When her hands finally reached his bare skin he took an involuntary breath. Her scent was delectable. The clean, fresh fragrance that was her was soothing to his senses, even while it stirred his blood further. The thick, honeyed scent of hibiscus – her arousal – lay on his tongue like a potent drug. He wanted to lap at her skin to find more of it. He, _Sesshomaru_. Not his pacing beast. His blood was driving him, but it was her scent, familiar and foreign, that intrigued the daiyoukai beyond mere instinct to rut.

Her fingers traced the muscles of his torso, dipping into his navel and following the arrow of hair that led to the part of him that most ached for her touch. She took too long with the ties – and not long enough. A part of him still hoped that she would see reason. Sesshomaru urged her, in a dark corner of his mind, to forget her need to help and to flee. To see the obvious danger to herself and leave him. His pants fell loose onto his lap and even that quiet voice in him fell silent.

Her sigh puffed against his skin, fragrant with sake and not nearly as close as he would have liked. Her frustration with his fundoshi was obvious, and would have been amusing if he were not far beyond frustrated. It also sparked another concern for his suddenly, strangely, possessive instincts. He wondered what experiences had brought the miko to expect a male would not be wearing an undergarment. That thought was followed quickly by the question of where she had learned to unwrap such a cloth.

And it was clear she was aware of the fundamentals of male dress. She leaned further over him, her mouth dangerously close to his skin, to slide her hands underneath him. The refreshing touch of her palms on his backside relieved the heat of his flesh only until his body reacted, sending blood pounding to his veins in response to her proximity. She paused for a moment, and he could not decide if he feared the indignity of her kneading those chill fingers into him, or if he would become completely insensate if he did not experience her body against his immediately.

When the cloth came loose and she reached for him – only to pull away – a snarl built in his chest. He could not even release _that _tension as it stuck behind his immobilized throat. The frustration was over quickly, and replaced by the first hint of relief he had experienced for his condition in centuries. Her hand, so small and delicate, wrapped firmly around his girth. The fire in him was crashed into her like magma reaching the sea. Still, his blood pulsed to replace it from the bottomless well of need that yawned inside him. His gaze, drawn to the sight of her, so close to easing his pain, flicked up again to meet her eyes. He was held by those blue depths, once again, tantalized by the image of an ocean wave, leeching heat from the shore as it caressed the beach.

She apologized for her lack of experience, which, helpless to respond as he was, Sesshomaru found amusing. Amusing that she would be concerned that she could not pleasure him adequately, when he knew that – had he not been trapped within his own mind – he would have pinned her to the ground already and taken his pleasure multiple times. It would not have mattered what skill, or even interest or lack thereof, she had shown.

Lack of interest was not an issue. He was grateful, as unfamiliar and humbling as such an emotion was for him. Grateful that, for at least a short while, she was enjoying - even desiring - to touch him. He knew with a certainty that blackened the edges of his mood, that such desire would die a quick death if he found her after he had regained use of his body. The blood-called lust of a daiyoukai was not a thing to be born lightly – or at all for a human that had not received rigorous preparation. Even then, the death of the human was likely – from exhaustion if not the vigor of the acts themselves.

He had only a moment to reflect that her lack of experience also pleased something thereforto unknown within him; it stroked his ego and caused his beast to purr in anticipation. Then she was removing the cloth. His body cried out at the loss of her touch, but the expression on her face as his member was exposed nearly made up for it. The tip of her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips and her eyes were wide and glassy with the same desire that created another surge of scent around them: hibiscus and salt that made saliva pool in his mouth.

"Just don't kill me if I enjoy this more than you," she whispered. He would not have heard if it weren't for his demonic ears; as it was he wanted to laugh outright at the suggestion that she could do anything to him that would not result in his release. As things were, he felt that he would explode at the merest touch of her bare hand on him.

Such shaming quick release was not his fate. He was not sure if it would have been preferred to a drawn out experience that he knew - from centuries of living with the curse of his heritage, of living with the inherent need to mate and procreate - would only be followed by a nearly instant resurgence of his blood. The longer the first release was delayed, and his had been avoided for nearly two centuries, the more times he would have to take his pleasure before he would be able to rest. Even then, his blood would continue to call to him, shouting louder with each passing hour, until he gave in. Again, and again, and again. Until a moon cycle had passed and his blood settled into dormancy for another quarter century.

She wrapped her hand around him, and a groan, a growl, a shout of absolute gratification clawed at his lungs for liberation. She did not meet his gaze again, but her grasp grew firmer, more sure. Her free hand left his chest, ghosting down the skin to find the base of his need. She circled there - testing or teasing, he was not certain and did not care – before slipping between his legs to cup his sac in her hand. A sound, something halfway between a groan and a growl, escaped his throat and was trapped behind his teeth. She gasped, her eyes flying to his and her hands withdrawing.

"I didn't- should I have – ah-" Her embarrassment was acute, and she shifted in her seat between his legs. "I am so sorry! This was no- I, ah-" She looked as though she might try to stand, and Sesshomaru, for perhaps the first time in his long life, ignored his pride. He held her gaze, and then slowly, meaningfully, stared at his cock. She still seemed uncertain, so he repeated the action, until her eyes followed his. It was only a moment, but trapped in his burning body it felt like an eternity. His thick length was an angry purple, flush with blood and lust and twitching in a demand for her attention. Her pale hand inched toward him again, her eyes flicking between his prominent need and his face.

"If you're sure...I mean," she whispered, biting her lip in a way that made him want to do the same. And then suck it into his mouth to soothe the hurt his fangs would cause. To heal her bleeding wounds with his saliva and probe her cavern, drawing her taste into him and forcing her into fluid submission. Her lips would fall open easily when he was done, panting and eager for more. "I don't want to hurt you further, or – or – make things...weird." He wasn't sure what she considered weird that did not also include stripping a powerful, deadly youkai alone in the woods and catering to his desire, but he did know that if she did not cease her prattling insecurities and touch him again he would kill her. Or himself. Possibly both. They would not be the first couple to rut themselves to death, it had been known to happen on rare occasions, but he felt that they would certainly be the most spectacularly violent. And noisy, given the woman's ceaseless chatter.

Then her right hand, the first two fingers lightly calloused from her bow string, wrapped around him again. The evidence of the use of her weapon dragged against his skin in an agonizing pleasure that had him holding his breath. Still, she continued to talk, and he did not care. Did not listen either, her words were filed away somewhere deep in his mind but ignored in the moment so that he could focus his entire attention on her thumb where it smoothed over his head. She traced the edge of his foreskin, the light motion tantalizing and leaving him throbbing. "Yuka's sister's video did not make it look this big," she whispered. Her legs tightened around him, her feet slipping out of her shoes so that her stockinged toes dug into his flanks, as she leaned closer to him. Her core – he could smell her desire, almost as strong as his own , see the evidence of it in the damp spot on her clothing – it pulsed with heat so close to him. If she shifted, just the smallest fraction, she would brush against him.

She cupped him with one hand while the other slowly dragged down his length, pulling the skin with it until his member was entirely exposed. Ridges of veins, throbbing and pulsing, ran from the base to the sensitive lip of his head. The tip, the aching, aching tip, was crowned with a clear bead of liquid. Her index finger traced the hole there, smearing the drop on both their skin and making his member bob – eager for more. "The magazines say no," she muttered to herself, staring at the thin film on her finger, "but the girl on the video made it seem..." her voice died away, and her left hand squeezed him, reflexively, he assumed - when he could think past the intense pleasure of the motion - as her right hand left his skin. "Just a taste..." He did not have time to anticipate her action before the wet finger disappeared past full, pink lips.


	7. Chapter 7: The Doors

**A/N: There has been a delay in posting for several weeks while I reformatted my stories to allow readers to download them. You can access the ebook format on my website, linked on my profile page, and read what has been completed to date in one sitting – including passages rated MA. Thank you for your patience.**

There was something hypnotic about the sight of him.

**This passage is rated MA, as is the majority of this chapter. In keeping with the content parameters in this sites terms of use, it has been removed from this posting and may be read on my website, linked on my profile page, or at Dokuga.**

Kagome was drunk. She was alone in the woods with Sesshomaru. A nearly naked, completely exposed, very aroused Sesshomaru. This was not _any_ other circumstance.

**This passage is rated MA.**

Her eyes fell closed, she could not help it. The throbbing heat inside her made her shift and squirm as though searching for something. Logically, she knew what her body wanted, but reason had been bitch-slapped, hog-tied, and locked in a dark closet the moment she realized exactly what Sesshomaru's problem was. She wanted to help him. She really did. Kagome told herself that she needed to get back to work; she needed to help him find release so that he could get better and she could move on.

**This passage is rated MA.**

A quiet popping noise filled the space between them as her wet finger left her mouth. She held it there, frozen in his gaze, suspended between them, before brushing across his own pale lower lip. She wasn't sure what crazy, suicidal impulse drove her to do it, but she could not stop there. His heat was scalding her, urging her to grind against him, and it took everything she had to hold her hips still. Her hands, however, seemed to have a will of their own. The rough callouses she had earned from years with a twanging bow string caught and pulled lightly on his lips before following the edge of his mouth to caress one magenta stripe.

**The remainder of this chapter is rated MA.**


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